


Empty Vessels

by StarTravel



Series: Defiance Through Tenderness [32]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Mental Health Awareness, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Relationship Discussions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 19:32:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17731280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: Julian and Garak continue their relationship in the time that Sisko is away from Deep Space 9, and let themselves plan for a future they don't know will ever happen.





	Empty Vessels

Garak wakes up to find hooded eyes staring up at him, slender palms pressing down against the softer skin between scales on his inner thighs. Garak tilts his head and meets Julian’s gaze, giving a quick half-nod. Julian grins and slides his mouth to the scales along the side of Garak’s knee - and it had been a disappointment to find out that isn’t a shared erogenous zone for humans and Cardassians - and he nips at the edges with an urgency that makes Garak close his eyes to keep from gasping.

 Can’t give Julian the satisfaction this early on, after all.  Julian’s hands continue to climb up his thighs, nails sliding across scales like piano keys. His touch isn’t as light as before, but it’s no less reverent. Garak lets out a low groan this time, spreading his thighs apart as he meets Julian’s gaze. “Well, good morning to me. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 “You’re alive and I’m alive and I don’t know how much longer that will be true.” Julian’s voice comes out rough and scratchy as he lifts his head up from Garak’s thighs. His gaze is pleading and desperate both with lust and something else that makes Garak shiver with both delight and guilt.

 They’re alive and Julian wants to feel it, wants to grasp at Garak’s body and feel him inside of him and feel himself inside of Garak, bodies so entangled it would seem almost impossible that they could be separated. Garak understands because he wants the same. But he needs to be sure this is about them and not wars and missing friends and all the things they can’t quite replace with passion. “Julian -”

 Julian nips at the skin along his inner thigh, twisting his tongue around a scale as he looks up at Garak from between his thighs. His eyes are shining with lust and a deeper need, something almost primal. No, Garak doesn’t think this is about Jadzia after all. “Not right now. Right now I’m going to make you evert with nothing but my mouth and then you’re going to fuck me over your work table. And then, once we’ve recovered enough, I’m going to fuck you in the shower so I can make it to my next shift. Is that good with you?”

 “You know, it’s not that romantic when you have it all planned out so exactly, my dear.” Garak tuts as Julian crawls further up his body, his lean frame spread out over Garak’s legs like he belongs there. Julian suddenly surges up so mouth is pressed against the ridges on his lower belly hands sliding up to grip his hips. Julian presses light kisses around but not quite touching where they both know he wants to most of all.

“Then what would be romantic, Elim?” Julian’s voice somehow manages to be breathy and challenging all at once. Julian licks his lips at the same time Garak grabs hold of his wrists and sits up, pressing himself over Julian in one fluid motion.

  Julian lets out a sound that’s half laugh and half moan as Garak grasps his hips and pulls him flush against him so Julian can feel that he’s fully everted. Garak doesn’t think he’ll be able to resist fucking him before they make it out of the bed. “The element of surprise, my dear.”

* * *

 Julian knows he’s being ridiculous as he glances between Elim and the door for what must be the third time in the past five minutes, letting out a low sigh. Elim raises an eye ridge at him over his padd, tilting his head to the right and giving Julian a flat look. Julian swallows tightly and reaches a hand out to rest it on Elim’s thigh. “Let’s just stay in tonight.”

 “You want to stay in? I thought we were going to do your Spartan War holoprogram?” Elim reminds him in a way that’s too pointed for it to be accidental or for him to want Julian to think it was, smirk more of a question mark. Julian closes his eyes and inches closer to Elim on the couch. Maybe if he cuddles up against him, Elim will forget to probe his sudden change of heart. It’s not likely, but then what in their lives has been?

 “We were, but I don’t think I’m in the mood for something with quite so much blood tonight.” Julian smiles and tries to keep his voice light, but if he can feel the tension in his mouth, then he knows Elim can see it. Elim slides one arm around the waist, his other coming up so he can brush his thumb along the corner of his lips.

 Elim raises an eye ridge and gives him a careful once over, lips pursing together. He wraps his arm more tightly around his waist, voice almost apologetic as he presses his mouth against the shell of Julian’s ear. “You know, you don’t have to keep doing war programs if they’re starting to have the same effect as all your maudlin poetry.”

 “I don’t want to let the war ruin everything I enjoy.” Julian’s voice wavers a bit before he can stop, something strained in his voice that’s going to make Elim think he’s _right._ And he’s not. Julian just - he needs to get out of his own head for a bit. Going to another war zone or pretending to be a spy is - it helps, but maybe not in the right way. “And besides, it’s not that. I’m just not in the mood tonight.”

 Elim gives him a patient look that makes it clear he doesn’t believe him, but that he’s not going to argue it right now. Julian takes some solace in that and lets himself melt against Garak’s side. “Then what would you like to do?”

 “Tell me more about your time on Romulus.” Julian murmurs into his ear, gaze sparkling as he pulls back just time in to see a flash of delight spread across Elim’s gaze. He does love to tell a good story. Julian’s grin widens as he leans back a little so he’s not as much crushed against Elim. “In Kardassi.”

 “We can do that at the Trill spas, my dear.” Elim throws out as he unspools his arm from around Julian’s waist and rolls to his feet all in one fluid motion. Elim reaches a hand out towards Julian with a flourish.

 “Why Elim, what a splendid idea.” Julian answers back in a voice that’s almost too affectionate, taking the offered hand and letting himself he pulled to his feet. Maybe the war isn’t going to take everything, just change some of them. And maybe all of those changes don’t have to be for the worse.

* * *

 Garak thinks about telling Julian this would go faster if he stopped squirming, but decides better at the last minute. Julian lets out a low exhale, scrunching his eyebrows together as Garak runs his measuring tape down his inseam for the third time. It never hurts to be absolutely sure his measurements are right, after all.

Garak slides up his body, hands resting against his narrow waist. Maybe some kind of light detailing there in his more formal hot months wear. Julian rolls his eyes and waves one hand in his face, a bit like he’s trying to swipe at a fly. “I came here for a reason, not so you could use me as a mannequin.”

 “Well, if you’d been on time we could have gone to lunch before I made you some new clothes.” Garak tuts as he brings the measuring tricorder up across Julian’s shoulders, somehow at once broad in length and bone-thin at the same time. Garak brushes a hand against Julian’s bare shoulder, skin soft and warmed by the temperature of the dressing room.

 “I don’t see _why_ I need any new clothes.” Julian mutters, but makes no move to get off of the podium, instead letting Garak runs the tricorder across the slim lines of his neck.

 Garak glances down at the neon green shorts Julian is currently wearing with nothing else, but he can remember all the unsightly things Julian paired them with on Risa. None of them will ever be considered anywhere near acceptable on Cardassia, and the fabrics hardly breath the ways the ones he works with do. “Yes, I know dear, that’s the problem.”

 “Very funny, Elim.” Julian huffs as Garak walks around him to stand behind him, taking in the lithe muscles of his back. Garak brushes his hands across the top of his shoulders, not bothering with the tricorder this time and instead simply delighting in memorizing the angles of Julian’s body.

 Garak runs his hands down Julian’s flanks, coming to rest at his hips as he gives them a light squeeze. Julian rests his head on Julian’s shoulder as he wraps his arms more fully around his lover’s body. “You would look utterly delectable in white sprinx silk, my dear. I can just see it now, cascading over your shoulders and around your waist, highlighting the lean lines of your body.”

 “Where would I ever need to wear something that flimsy?” Julian laughs with bright eyes, shaking his head as he glances up at both of them in the wall sized mirror along the dressing room wall. Garak presses a light kiss to Julian’s jaw, soft and platonic as he holds him still and imagines them surrounded by dusty red sand and beautiful sculptures rising from itlike islands from the sea. Julian’s eyes light up suddenly, mouth sliding into a bright smirk. “Now, Elim, where would I need to wear something like that?”

 “Mannequins are usually silent, my dear.” Garak chides without any real heat behind it, ridges stiffening just a hair. Julian lets out a bright laugh, warm and spreading across the room and echoing back to them. He twists around in his arms until they’re face to face and Garak can see the tenderness in Julian’s gaze alongside the smugness. Garak is surprised at how little fear he feels at Julian knowing the hopes he shouldn’t let them have.

 “I love you too, darling.” Julian murmurs into his ear as he leans in and then Julian is kissing him, soft and sweet as his hands come up to rest against his shoulders. Garak imagines waking up to this everyday and decides to let himself dream.

* * *

  Julian meets Miles in front of the holosuite door, pulling at the edge of his coat sleeve every few seconds with a touch of anxiety. He can’t help but think back to his conversation with Elim from a few nights ago. Were these programs as fun as they used to be, before the war? The Alamo is, if only because it’s a puzzle and because it belongs to him and Miles and no one else. Julian’s never had a best friend to share things like that with before, Miles is his first.

 But maybe the rest of them are … Julian imagines another plane crashing into dust or bullets flying and feels his stomach drop. He greets Miles with an uneasy smile, body hunched as the other man approaches the holosuite. “Do you think we spend too much time doing these programs? Not the Alamo, but the rest of them.”

 “Where is this coming from, Julian?” Miles scrunches his face up, crossing his arms against his chest as he leans against the wall of Quark’s. Julian swallows the urge to point out all the different ways it’s unsanitary and focuses on the concern in Miles’ gaze instead.

 “Nothing, nothing. Just something that Elim mentioned to me the other night.” Julian crosses his arms, pulling slightly at the edge of his white scarf. It’s one of the few things he owns that Garak actually _likes._ It’d be a shame to get it splashed with holo-blood. Even if it disappears afterwards, somehow the stains never really seem to. “He was probably just trying to tease me.”

 “Probably.” Miles mutters in a low voice as his gaze drops to the floor. There’s a certain note to his voice that means he knows he’s wrong but doesn’t want to be. Still Julian has to give him credit; he admits to it much faster than he or Elim do. “Keiko said something similar to me, you know.”

 “Did she?” Julian murmurs in a low voice, hand still hovering over the code to the holosuite. He’ll have a kind of relief if he loses himself in his annihilation fantasies and imaginary losses, of stiff upper lips and old-fashioned heroism. But he’s not sure those things won’t end up destroying something else in his core in the process. He’s lost too much to risk something else. “We could play racquetball instead. It has been a while and it really _is_ more of a workout than the Battle of Britain.”

 “Yeah, let’s do that. Let’s go change and meet back here in 10.” Miles’ tone immediately brightens as he punches Julian on the shoulder, face relaxing as he takes a few steps back. Julian feels the tension slip out of his shoulders and reminds himself not to let Elim know about this. He’d never let him live it down. “Don’t wear that silver thing, though.”

 “Of course not, Miles.” Julian promises with a wide grin as he starts walking backwards across the bar, eyes sparkling. He bites his lips when they reach the doorway, tilting his head to the right a bit. “Elim made me one in fluorescent blue.”

 He doesn’t even bother dodging when Miles throws a balled up napkin at him.

* * *

 “My dear, I can understand that you want to defend the classic works of your dear Federation.” Garak’s voice is low and teasing, lightly brushing Julian’s bare ankle with his own. Julian raises an eyebrow, gaze flashing with amused irritation as he tilts his head to the right. Garak smiles, polite in a way he knows most people find infuriating. “But you must admit that The Iliad is full of selfish fools, excepting Hector and Odysseus and possibly Cassandra.”

 “Well, for once we’re in agreement, but you’ve completely misunderstood The Iliad. You’re _meant_ to think they’re being foolish, Elim. Achilles’ pride and refusal to place the importance of the war and his allies above it is why his lover Patroclus died. You’re meant to see that as a tragedy.” Julian’s voice is clipped as he slides toward Garak on the couch, though there’s a playfully smug bent to his gaze. Julian slides one leg underneath the blanket so they’re hip to hip.

 Garak makes a tutting noise low in his throat, because he supposes there’s _some_ merit to the story. But only some. “I don’t see why Patroclus should have to die for Achilles’ pride.”

 “Please, you’d find it terribly romantic if it was a Cardassian epic.” Julian huffs as he shakes his head back and forth, tilting his neck back a bit so Garak can see the warm amusement in his gaze.

 “Maybe.” Garak admits with a hint of a sigh, gazing down at Julian tenderly. Garak does love when Julian actually manages to almost win an argument. He brushes a hand idly down his cheek and then the side of his neck, letting it rest along the sharp lines of his clavicle. “I did like Odysseus, he certainly had more sense than any of the rest of them and is the only one with any cunning whatsoever.”

 Julian slides more under the blanket until he’s half on top of Garak and half on the couch, leaning his body against Garak’s sturdy chest. Julian lets out a content sigh, voice buzzing enthusiastically. “Then you’re going to love the Odyssey, his wife Penelope is arguably even more clever than him and far more patient than he deserves.”

 “Ah, so you like it because it reminds you of us.” Garak smirks wide this time and doesn’t say who he thinks is who, though apparently Julian reads enough in his words to let out an offended huff.

 In truth, he thinks they’re both Odysseus and Penelope; patient where the other is too quick, clever where the other sometimes lets their past make them foolish and sentimental.

 But it’s more fun to let Julian think he meant that he’s not as cunning.

* * *

  Julian strides back into his quarters, torn between excitement and a dull kind of surprise that blend together to leave him dazed. When he walks through the door, Elim is already there, sitting on the edge of the couch and making careful stitches along the inside of something silken.

 Elim looks up at Julian with a hint of a smile, and then catching the look on his face, immediately sets his work aside. Julian smiles gratefully and curls up against his side, one arm wrapping around Elim’s shoulders to pull him closer. He needs to hold onto something solid right now, to feel Elim’s cool scales under his palms. “Captain Sisko came back today.”

 “I suppose that explains what is happening with the Wormhole.” Elim murmurs noncommittally as he leans more fully into Julian’s embrace. Elim grabs his right hand and squeezes it softly, thumb brushing across his wrist gently. “How is he?”

 “As well as he can be, considering the circumstances. It was good to see him again, it made things around here feel, well, not normal.” Julian murmurs and for a second he can’t help grinning, expression lighting up against his will. He has missed the Captain and his amused smirks and dramatic speeches, his easy leadership and understanding of what is right over whatever the prime directive says. But his return had also come with a stark reminder of how different things are now. “But closer to it, and that’s almost the same.” (closer to it? I didn’t understand)

 Elim presses his eye ridges together as he glances over at Julian from the corner of his eye. There’s no judgment in his gaze, but there is a gentle knowing. “What aren’t you telling me?”

 “He and Jake weren’t alone. There was a new Dax with them. Ezri.” Julian’s voice is soft as he squeezes Elim’s hand back, his other one sliding further down his shoulder. Julian doesn’t know if he wants to keep holding Elim or to put his head in his lap and let Elim run his hands through his hair. He supposes there’s plenty of time for both. Julian swallows roughly, closing his eyes as the next few words spill out of his mouth like a curse. “I think I’ll like her.”

 “And that makes you feel guilty.” Elim doesn’t need to ask, voice careful as he presses his head against Julian’s shoulder. Julian lets himself slump more on top of and over him, suddenly feeling almost as tired as he had the day Jadzia passed. He wasn’t - isn’t ready for Ezri, with her cheerful smile and bright gaze, at once so much and nothing at all like Jadzia.

 Julian closes his eyes and twists around, pulling his arm away off of Garak’s shoulder to rest against his jaw instead. He feels Garak’s lips press against his forehead as though in absolution. “Terribly.”

**Author's Note:**

> Questions and comments are loved! :)


End file.
